


Cherry Blossoms

by hauntedlittledoll, Tarrinatopaz



Series: The Hunger of Ravens [2]
Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-06-04 09:30:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6652411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hauntedlittledoll/pseuds/hauntedlittledoll, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarrinatopaz/pseuds/Tarrinatopaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where the 74th Hunger Games ended with the suicides of the tributes from District 12 the Games drag on… this year brings us to the 83rd.</p>
<p>Before the Presidential Ball ending the Victor Tour the first lady meddles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cherry Blossoms

“Oh, never mind me, ducklings,” the bright and airy voice preceded the First Lady into the room. “I just like to look in on our Victors before the big ball.”

If Piper Greenmantle had ever before taken an interest in the children of coal miners and farmers, Ronan would eat the stupid-looking boutonniere his stylist had foisted off on him.

The style team disappeared accordingly.

Red seemed to be the color of the evening. Piper’s gown, lips, and nails were stained a vivid crimson although the flowers that trimmed her dress and hair were a variety of gentle pearly pinks.

They clashed with everything Ronan knew to be true. That was the whole point of this ball, he supposed.

Ronan had been given a classic suit in gunmetal grey for this occasion although both his shirt and tie were a black, silky material that felt too thin to be comfortable.

Ronan was just waiting for the day that his stylist had her revenge by giving him a suit that turned transparent under a blacklight or some such nonsense.

She probably deserved a good _Emperor’s Clothes_ joke with what Ronan put her through.

“Oh,” the president’s wife murmured approvingly. “Very striking. Very handsome, Mr. Lynch.”

Ronan tried to remember Adam in the next room. Adam, who was living his sacrifice every day. Adam, who made that sacrifice for Ronan.

He remembered Adam and managed to refrain from baring his teeth at the woman. Barely.

“The flowers are all wrong, of course, and your tie …” Her slender fingers picked apart the silk and retied it.

“Careful,” Ronan warned in a perfectly fucking civil voice. “No pocket square to clean up any little messes.”

“How very true,” she smiled, smoothing his lapels as the real truth–the one that they both knew–went unsaid.

She had cut him on purpose the night they were crowned.

She pulled a flower from her hair … something pink and small that Ronan didn’t know by name. She tucked it in place of the much contested boutonniere.

“There. Now … now you’re ready.”

* * *

 

Adam glanced up out of habit, a half-smile already in place to soothe ruffled feathers.

Only it wasn’t Ronan in the mirror.

Or, at least, not just Ronan.

“Well,” Piper Greenmantle said, abandoning her reluctant escort’s arm. “Are you not just a picture, Mr. Parrish?”

Adam watched Ronan grimace in the mirror and knew that his boyfriend would not be extending any similar compliments now that the Capitol woman had beaten him to it.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “Edge is very good.”

His stylist preened under the attention, and Adam used the distraction to slip away from the mirror.

His outfit was the usual coal black with a high collar, fitted sleeves, and tapered lines. He didn’t look like much more than a shadow in his own opinion, but shadow-like seemed to work for Ronan.

The Magician could have lived without the knowledge that it worked for Piper Greenmantle too.

Adam’s boots were silent on the floor–some kind of silicon soling–but Piper’s heels made a metallic sort of tap that rang against the hardwood floor as she approached.

It was always possible that her stiletto heels concealed actual stilettos.

“I’ll take it from here,” she said brightly. “Sometimes it just takes a woman’s touch.”

That would explain the branch of cherry blossoms accentuating Ronan’s suit, Adam thought to himself.

_Cherry blossoms._

_Tragic. Temporary. Dying young._

He flinched back from the crimson talons that reached for his hair.

Piper was undeterred, finger-combing his uncontrollable thatch of pale hair forward so that it fell more naturally in his eyes.

Hiding behind the messy bangs made him feel better, it contributed to his image of the lost and broken victor, and Adam could always depend on Ronan’s hands finding their way to his temples and smoothing the locks back again.

Honestly, Adam would have fought the style team’s constant attempts to style his messy hair for Ronan alone.

Piper was perfunctory, bordering on painful. Her nails grazed his scalp, but did not draw blood.

Adam kept his gaze firmly on the floor until the first lady deliberately turned his chin up with a firm grip on either side of his jaw. She reached up with one fingertip–too close to his eye–to smudge the make-up there with a soft approving noise.

The team regularly lined his eyes with kohl, but Adam usually scrubbed it off after the young woman left the room.

Ronan wore it when cornered, but it suited him and the stunning blue eyes he had inherited from his father. The smoky kohl look just made Adam’s blue-grey eyes look stormy, bruised, and overtired.

And Adam could look all these things without deliberately painting it on his face.

Piper just smoothed the sharp lines to make it more natural, and then stood on tiptoe to place a mocking kiss on his forehead.

It wouldn’t stain. Her make-up was too high-end for that, but Adam could feel it like a brand against his forehead nonetheless.

He goes when prodded, falling into place against Ronan’s side and tucking his face in the other boy’s shoulder.

Ronan’s hand squeezed his.

Adam squeezed back.

“Your mothers would be very proud of you boys tonight,” Piper said at last. Careless. Cruel. “Very proud indeed.”

And that might have been cutting enough if Adam had come from District 12’s celebration alone–a party that neither parent had attended.

But he had stayed at the Barns. He had slept in Ronan’s childhood bed, and eaten seconds for the first time in months. He had been embraced as warmly as Ronan on the platform–both coming and going–and Aurora Lynch had stroked Adam’s hair the same way that her son so often did.

Adam didn’t want for anything but freedom now.

And Piper Greenmantle couldn’t give him that.


End file.
